Escape to Edirne

‘And why do you go to Edirne?’ Yavuz, our Istanbul hostel receptionist, asked us in bewilderment. ‘There is nothing in Edirne. There is one mosque and nothing else.’ He recommended that we travel to Cappadocia instead, enthusiastically promoting the area’s beauty and the wealth of sight-seeing activity it offered. Whilst planning for the trip, Brendan and I had agreed to take a short trip out of Istanbul, and other places like Gallipoli and Ephesus were considered. Edirne, however, was a relatively convenient (and short) trip from the heartland of Turkish tourism and the fact that it was the Ottoman capital prior to the conquest of Constantinople made a visit to it – to me, at least – quite appealing. Most, if not all, other tourists we met during our time in Istanbul were unaware of Edirne’s existence. A few would nod in acknowledgement when I referred to Edirne using its former name, ‘Adrianople’. Having spent an academic year studying Ottoman history, I was a little surprised at the former Ottoman capital’s relative obscurity. We decided to stick to our original plan in the end, hopping onto a bus at the bus station (‘otogar’) and taking a two-and-a-half hour ride to Edirne, located west of Istanbul, very close to both Bulgarian and Greek borders.



Selimiye Mosque

We were taken aback at the heat and dryness of the place as we alighted in Edirne. The lack of tourists on our bus and at the Edirne otogar foreshadowed our experience in the city itself. We did not come across a single Chinese-looking tourist in our two days there and if there were other tourists (it is difficult to tell with the racial makeup of Turkey’s population), their presence was far from obvious to us. Even the guests in our hotel seemed to be Turkish! We were certainly aware that Edirne was not the number one tourist spot in Turkey but the both of us were utterly surprised that the historical sites and proximity to Istanbul were not successful in attracting more foreigners to visit the place. As I footed the bill at a particular kebap shop, Brendan told me that a waiter flipped through my Lonely Planet guide and when he saw my bookmark at the ‘Edirne’ page, he shrugged his shoulders, as if wondering why we would visit a place like this. Walking along the streets, it was common for locals to aim curious stares at us. A few would fix their gazes on us for a lengthy period of time. Brendan noticed an elderly lady in a mosque’s courtyard whose eyes constantly followed us, her head turning in any direction we walked. As I waited to enter the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne, a local photographer, also waiting for the prayers to conclude, asked if he could take a picture of me. On the bus back to Istanbul, two children were seated across the aisle and when they first noticed us, looked at us in wide-eyed curiosity, as if we were newly-introduced animals in a zoo enclosure. We couldn’t help but feel that Edirne was welcoming two rare visitors from the Orient! In retrospect, this lack of familiarity and linguistic comfort were to make my visit to Edirne more special and pleasurable.

Fried Chicken Liver

Accompanying this was a contrasting dearth of ‘slimy-ness’, the pleasing absence of a mercenary atmosphere which we had become quite accustomed to during our time in Istanbul. It was indubitably a favourable change of atmosphere for us. I may go so far to say that while in Edirne, we were foreigners, aliens perhaps, but not tourists. No one attempted to sell us anything we didn’t want and there was no pressure to enter any particular lokanta, the Turkish version of a canteen, or ciğerci, which served the local speciality: deep-fried chicken liver eaten with dried chillies. The friendliness we received as foreigners was consistent and because of that, always appeared genuine. A Kurdic man we passed on the way back from the Bayezid mosque complex even invited us to have tea with him in his abode. After Istanbul, it was strange to not hear a word of English during our stay in Edirne and my very limited Turkish came into good use. Almost everyone we interacted with, be it shopkeepers, waiters, or even passers-by we approached for directions, seemed to appreciate attempts to communicate with them in their local language. Sometimes, they would beam upon hearing you say something in Turkish and immediately proceed to speak to you as if you were actually fluent. Most of the time, the locals we approached for directions were always willing to help (after initially being somewhat astonished by our presence) and although we were to experience a very palpable linguistic barrier between us and the local people, I’d say that touring the former Ottoman capital was a comfortable enough experience, and a very rewarding one indeed.



Sultan Bayezid Mosque Complex

Edirne’s not one of the most obvious tourist destinations in Turkey and if I hadn’t studied Ottoman history, we would definitely not have considered visiting it. Not wanting to go into too much detail, the main attractions offered include the Selimiye Mosque, the Eski Cami (‘Old Mosque’) as well as the Three-Balcony Mosque. The Selimiye Mosque was built by Mimar Sinan, undeniably the Ottoman Empire’s most famous architect, and was considered by the architect himself to be his finest work. The Eski Cami expectedly predates any mosque in Istanbul (with the exception of the Aya Sofya, which has stood for almost 1500 years but was only converted into a mosque in 1453) and it is possible to appreciate an amalgam of Ottoman and Seljuk influences on its architecture. A walk in a northward direction from the city centre will take you to Sarayici, the former hunting ground and palace of the Ottoman sultans, as well as to the stadium where Edirne’s annual oil-wrestling matches are held.

Oil Wrestlers

Nearby the Sarayici is the Sultan Bayezid (II) Mosque Complex, built for one of the, in my opinion, more underrated Ottoman sultans who had the slight misfortune of being sandwiched between the more famous Fatih Mehmed Sultan (better known as ‘Mehmed the Conqueror’) and Selim I who was responsible for the conquest of Mecca and Medina. A less scenic walk south of the city centre takes one to Turca Bridge. Across the bridge and around the area, there are several nice riverside cafes serving Turkish cuisine and one can savour a nice cup of tea (‘ςay’) or a glass of beer while watching the sunset.





Inside the Old Mosque

On hindsight, our decision to resist the trip to Cappadocia was a right one and the two days we set aside to tour Edirne were very well-spent. My dear travel buddy, Brendan, initially claimed that, unlike me, he liked the presence of hordes of tourists, and this may have seemed to preclude Edirne as a favourable destination for him. I was, of course, pleased to see him eventually retract his statement and credit must be given to him on two levels. Firstly, he had graciously agreed to my proposal of Edirne as our out-of-Istanbul destination. Secondly, his assertion that ‘if he (Yavuz) says that nobody goes to Edirne, we must go there’ helped to make resisting Cappadocia much easier. It was pleasing to know that he did not regret our sojourn in Edirne. I certainly did not!

Ataturk Statue in Edirne

The Beautiful Game That's Football - Part One

F.C. Barcelona and its free-flowing, passing football. Brazilians doing the samba with a ball at their feet. These may come to mind when one encounters the description of football as a ‘beautiful’ game.

A relatively late convert to this ‘beautiful’ game, I had rejected its appeal all my primary school years, even as I observed my classmates exchange stickers with profiles of footballers and enlarge their collection of Corinthian figurines. I couldn’t quite comprehend why it was the most popular sport in the world; Pat Rafter and tennis were my obsessions. ‘Twenty-two people (some may argue that it’s actually twenty excluding the goalkeepers) chasing one ball on a rectangular field. Where’s the sense in that?’ I still come across this line frequently and in all honesty, I was once a subscriber, too. I couldn’t understand how several of my classmates would spend lengthy durations talking about the weekend’s games and how they could possibly invest so much emotional energy in supporting football clubs stationed thousands of miles away. The game’s tremendous popularity was beyond me. Some may argue that it is not in spite of, but rather, because of its relative simplicity, compared to the likes of rugby and cricket, that football possesses a strong, global following. One only needs to compare the number of viewers of the 2010 World Cup to other sporting events to get a sense of the game’s popularity. For my part, I will not compare it to other sports and assess their comparative aesthetical values (one may find little point in doing this) but rather, try to explain how I came to appreciate football and the impact it’s had on my life thus far.

Most football fans in Singapore support the likes of Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal, and Chelsea. In December 2001, I entered my parents’ bedroom where my father was watching Leeds United vs NewcastleUnited. Dad was a football enthusiast – he captained his school team during his younger days – and would spend hours every week watching English Premier League games on cable TV but I had never summoned enough curiosity to accompany him and to find out why football was such an important part of his life. For some reason that I cannot recall, I decided to, for once, attempt to watch the game with him. In retrospect, my decision to remain was a curious one as when I began watching, Newcastle were already 3-1 down and were playing away from home against a formidable Leeds team. Possessing little football knowledge and interest in the game, I would normally have walked away, especially after I had seen the score-line. Fate, however, ensured that I stayed put and watched the rest of the match. This made sure that my life would never be the same again. The Magpies, the nickname by which Newcastle is known, under the guidance of the great Sir Bobby Robson, soon pegged back from being two goals down and drew level with their opponents. In the dying minutes of the game, Nobby Solano squeezed a shot in from a tight angle and the contrast between Sir Bobby’s and David O’Leary’s reactions could not have been starker. Nobby’s winner made my blood turn black-and-white. In all honesty, I had no idea that its 4-3 win sent the Newcastle team to the summit of the Premier League table and the fact that the team had not won a domestic title since the 1950s – and have not since – precludes the possibility of me being labeled a ‘glory-hunter’. The spirit they displayed in that match against Leeds was what gave them my allegiance.

With Terence and Vinod at St James Park

Many, cognizant of the fact that I’m a Newcastle fan, often think that my support for the club was the reason for my decision to select Durham University to undertake my undergraduate studies. This is an impression which I need to correct. Durham’s a reputable university in its own right and its History department was ranked 2^nd (behind Cambridge) when I applied to study there. I also liked the fact that Durham was far away from London and provided a different living environment from the hustle-and-bustle of city life that I’d grown up with. On a personal level, supporting Newcastle added to the university’s appeal, and played an important part in making Durham the University of my Dreams.

With Bill at the Sir John Hall Stand

Studying in England has afforded me a more intimate perspective on the ‘beautiful’ game. The reasons for the love many English football fans have for the clubs they support go beyond the trophies they win, and beyond their adoration for particular football players. Attachments to football clubs are often formed because of location, family history, religious affiliations and even certain ideas represented by the clubs. I had the chance to meet friends in university who support the likes of Coventry, Preston and Portsmouth (which is in the danger of being liquidated as I pen this). And of course, in Durham, you get a significant proportion of football fans following Sunderland F. C. (in Singapore, you hardly see someone in red-and-white apart from during National Day celebrations) in addition to ardent ‘magpies’ like me. Perhaps, the strength of regional and local identities in England can be gauged during the support seen during derby games, where teams located in close proximity play each other, and even when clubs from the South compete against those in the North. For many, football is almost a religion, and I know of people who will go so far as to say that a victory or defeat for their team during a weekend match could determine their mood for the upcoming week! Bill, a long-suffering Newcastle fan whom I sat beside during several matches, told me how he kept recordings of the 5-0 victory against Manchester United and the 5-1 derby demolition of Sunderland and that he would watch them whenever he was feeling down. David, seated two seats from me, has held a season ticket at the same seat for more than a decade. When I asked him if he was retaining his seat for next season, he replied, ‘Definitely. It’s like a drug.’

With Hughie and Fast at the Woodman Inn

Knowing a little about English football helps a foreigner like me in my interactions with locals here. Often, you meet someone new and apart from the usual introductory exchanges, find yourself struggling to come up with a common topic for discussion. Although one should not overestimate the broadness of the football support base in England, I find myself surreptitiously heaving a sigh of relief, not just because there’s something to break the awkward silence but also because I enjoy finding out more about the different football clubs, the areas they are in and the culture behind their existence. At times, the topic provides the first foundation stone upon which a friendship may be forged. On the 31^st of October last year, I decided to catch a Monday night football game: Newcastle vs. Stoke City. The Woodman Inn is a century-old, local pub situated some five minutes away from my house in Durham and having passed it quite a few times on the way to lectures, I decided to catch the game there. Of course, I had to first verify if it was a safe place for Newcastle fans to be in. The owner, Gary, told me that it was a Newcastle pub (I was to realise that the Woodman was frequented by BOTH Newcastle and Sunderland fans) and that I will be safe there. I popped in an hour later, some ten minutes before the game, quite eager to interact with anyone who would care for a chat. I took a seat at the bar counter and quickly began conversing with those seated around me. They were mostly Durham locals and I warmed up to them with relative comfort. A few were naturally curious about how I’d come to support the Magpies and I genuinely enjoyed listening to their opinions on certain players – those they rated and those they hated. The team defeated Stoke City that evening and it was great fun celebrating with the others. A few weeks later, when the satellite reception was temporarily lost while we were watching another game, Michael, one of the guys I met the other night, offered to take me along with a few others to another pub. He gave us a ride to Belmont, a few miles from the Woodman, where we continued to watch the game at The Sportsman. They even bought me drinks! I have since become quite a regular at the Woodman and though I’m usually the only Asian there (Michael refers to me as the ‘Asian Contingent’), I always enjoy the company and the atmosphere there. I even had the opportunity to make friends with Hughie, a die-hard Sunderland fan who constantly offers to take me to the Stadium of Light and divert me to the ‘straight and narrow path’. That aside, with reference to the game of football (and this may apply equally to many other sports), I find it wonderful that people from such vastly different backgrounds can come to share something common that is so close to their hearts, to revel in the joyous moments and to commiserate with one another when things aren’t as rosy. Football can really draw people together and can even form the basis on which friendships can be built across racial and cultural lines. I am truly grateful for this part of my Durham experience as it helps to make the experience of studying overseas all the more complete.  

With Jeff, our beloved college porter

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